


If The Dress Fits...

by Karratran



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Model!AU, gender fluidity, wedding dress maker!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karratran/pseuds/Karratran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka is a very talented wedding dresses designer, and runs a small wedding boutique in a small town with his three friends, Makoto, Nagisa and Rei.</p>
<p>Rin is a genderfluid model whose promising career is just getting started, but he has one problem. Japan is too traditional for his field, so he needs to leave the Land of the Rising Sun for it to prosper.</p>
<p>This is the story of how their worlds collide and how they manage with the outcome.</p>
<p>
  <b>NOTICE: fic currently on hiatus. I'm sorry I suck at producing content, but I'm not in a nice space of mind. I'm working on it tho, so don't worry.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Behind Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Maddie's [AU](http://maddieandyou.tumblr.com/post/83428762481/harurin-rinharu-au-idea). 
> 
> And Madz made a [beautiful art](http://thorahathi.tumblr.com/post/88859055267/once-upon-a-time-karratran-asked-me-for-a-rinharu) about this, and I think it's the best thing _ever_.
> 
> I must thank Echo for thinking up the title of this fic! I could have not been able to figure it out on my own.
> 
> Enjoy~!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sis Albis has been the most beautiful person on Earth by helping me when I get stuck and making sure I write everyone _in character_.
> 
> Thanks a tons to Astral for helping me with the beta job, you're awesome!

His pencil dashed confidently across the sheet. _Long, curved strokes. Clean, short strokes. Soft shading with the pencil tipped almost horizontally. Oh, a stray line, swiftly erase. Blur with the little finger, softly but precise._

Nanase Haruka. Age 23. Majored in Fine Arts, at the Kyoto City University of Arts a couple of years ago. His current job, a wedding dresses designer. He worked at a small boutique he and his three friends started as a project right after him and his childhood friend, Tachibana Makoto—22 years old—, graduated from their respective universities. Ryuugazaki Rei—21 years old—and Hazuki Nagisa—22—joined the project a year later, when they graduated. Though they did help start it, they had to finish studying to _actually_ join.

Rei had been Haruka’s underclassman—his kouhai—when he had been attending the University. It was also the case with Makoto and Nagisa, they went to the University of Tokyo, and they both majored in Management, but they didn’t give off that “senpai-kouhai” aura because Nagisa was too familiar with the brunet.

Haruka and Rei designed the dresses; Makoto managed the shop with a bit of help from Nagisa, who focused mostly on the public relations and the marketing, but they also acted as advisors when needed.

Currently, the woman Haruka was designing the dress for was very soft. She had long wavy brown hair and hazel eyes, she was a bit short and healthily chubby, and tenderness filled her exquisite curves. No sharp edges about her body and even less about her personality. In reality, she was the kind of person you would just look at and say “She would be the best mother ever.”

The dress had to _fit her_.

So, of course, Haruka didn’t do any harsh or sharp strokes to the sketch.

_Ah, yes, there, this rose fits perfectly near the hip. High neckline, low back, gossamer shoulder sleeves. Natural lace hanging loosely around her waist, to accentuate her body shape. For the skirt, the gossamer falling in different levels, asymmetrically, and small pink stones, bringing color to the white gown._

“I see it’s turning out great, as always, Haru,” Makoto’s voice coming behind him made Haruka snap out of his daze.

“It’s not finished,” Haruka dead-panned without turning around.

Makoto chuckled at his friend’s usual behavior, prompting Haruka to roll his eyes.

It had been a good idea, really, that they opened the wedding shop. To tell the truth, it had been Nagisa’s idea. It started after one of his sisters got married, some years ago. But at the time she had trouble with finding the perfect dress, so they went to many wedding boutiques, but not one dress caught her eye. For some reason, Nagisa ended up calling Haruka and telling him that they would go to his apartment. Haruka welcomed them in and as soon as he opened his sketchbook and showed it to Nagisa’s sister, she started crying. He had been drawing dresses for various occasions as an assignment for his art class when he had been majoring.

“This! This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen! Please, Haru-chan, you have to make this for me!” She said between tears and sobs (Nagisa and his family shared the quirk of calling everyone with a “–chan” attached to their names).

In the end, they ended up hiring a tailor to produce the dress, because Haruka wasn’t all that good at cutting fabric and sewing it, but he did help out while learning how to do it at the same time. And when the time for fitting came, Haruka practically swatted the tailor’s hands away and did it himself.

“She wasn’t doing it right,” Was what Haruka said to justify his actions.

However, the tailor did give him pointers and tips, so that he could do it afterward on his own.

He realized he wanted to make dresses since that moment. And he loved it.

“Haru-chan! Rei-chan! Mako-chan!” Nagisa came running from his office. “I got us a deal!” The blond chirped excitedly.

Makoto perked up at the word _deal_. “What does it entail, Nagisa?” He inquired, as he was the shop’s manager, too.

“Well- Oh, wait, where’s Rei-chan?” Nagisa noticed the absence of the bespectacled man.

“Lunch break,” Haruka muttered without looking up from his sketch.

…

As soon as Rei came back, Nagisa went back to give the good news.

“There’s this modeling agency that’s having a campaign promoting gender fluidity! So they will have a guy, who’s already done some minor works, and apparently he’s really rocked the community, and a girl to support him, for it. So now, the agency had been looking for small designers to start the campaign because they can’t afford any big shot names yet, and as soon as they saw our portfolio, they decided to give us a shot at it!” Nagisa explained. That 'as soon' was probably a stretch, since he was incredibly good at getting his way.

Rei smiled nervously, “Well, of course we would get accepted, they saw Haruka-senpai’s art!”

Nagisa pouted, “Rei-chan’s art is awesome, too! Haru-chan doesn’t take risks, but Rei-chan does! Rei-chan is edgy and daring and beautiful! They really liked both of your portfolios!” Not entirely truthful, but it did the trick.

Perking at the mention of “beautiful”, Rei pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and laughed, “Is that so?”

Nagisa kept praising his friend, earning more dorky laughs from the youngest of the two.

“Isn’t it good, Haru?” Makoto spoke kindly towards his childhood friend, “You’ll get to make more dresses, and everyone will be able to wear them, no matter their gender,” his voice gentle.

Haruka pouted slightly, and muttered, “…Getting recognized will mean people will get in my way.”

“You fear they will take your freedom away?” The brunet chuckled lightly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

The designer narrowed his eyes and sighed. “…I will start to hate it.”

If his dresses got famous, people were bound to contact him for them. He’d get more work, of course, but having too much would end up in him not having enough time to see to every dress personally, he wouldn’t be able to make them, and instead they would be manufactured in industrial-standard lots. And no dress would be individual. Yes, the dresses might still be beautiful, but they would lack his signature, _his essence_.

It would all be meaningless if he couldn’t enjoy it.

“The company will send the models’ portfolios tomorrow, at most. They want Haru-chan and Rei-chan to study them,” Nagisa continued. “They want one designer per model. That way the dresses would be best fit!”

Rei fidgeted a bit with his glasses while he cleaned them. He was not as experienced as Haruka. And while, yes, his designs were beautiful, they were still a bit rough. He feared to mess up. So he believed Haruka to better work with the male model, as he, himself, was more comfortable working with females. However, he did not speak up his thoughts, afraid to disappoint his coworkers.

…

The portfolios arrived early in the morning of the next day. Makoto received them.

“Wow, this guy really _is_ good!” Was the first thing that he said after coming out of the office.

“It’s really hard to tell if he’s actually is a guy or a girl! Even his name is girly!” Nagisa chirped after taking the portfolio from Makoto’s hands. “Haru-chan! Rei-chan! Check this out!”

Rei was the only one who stood up from his work area and went to see what the blond manager meant. Haruka, on the other hand, stubbornly remained sat, finishing off some sketches.

“Well, the girl is also an excellent model, too, Nagisa-kun!” Rei admonished, as they would be working with two models, not just one, and both deserved recognition.

Makoto made use of his trademark kind smile. “I spoke to the agency’s director, right after I got the portfolios, and we’ve agreed on setting a small meeting to get us to know each other,” he sounded quite excited. “The staff and the models will come here next Saturday, to avoid rushing. In the meanwhile, we have to study the models’ body types and get started on the designing!”

Nagisa cheered loudly, Rei laughed proudly and Makoto smiled wider. Haruka only sighed and kept sketching.

…

Now, this… this was rather… unexpected, to say the least.

Haruka couldn’t understand why he was so… _enthralled_ with the portfolio in his hands.

He couldn’t, for the life of him, _understand_.

The designer’s eyes wouldn’t move from the photograph he’d been staring, _memorizing_ , for the past ten minutes nonstop. Right after Makoto gave him the folders, he opened the one with the male model. And though he’d gone through the whole portfolio, there had been one photo that especially caught his eye. The photograph showed the model’s profile with a serene expression, his eyes closed, his slightly long hair pulled back into a short ponytail, a small branch of a cherry tree with a few blossoms tucked on his ear, and his pale skin seemed to be shining. The photograph was only a bust, but he could see the black v-neck shirt the redhead wore. Haruka couldn’t look away from it.

His fingers itched with the need to grab his brushes and oils and smear the colors across a canvas to recreate this… this…

Haruka closed the portfolio and set it on his worktable, swallowed one, two times, took a couple of deep breaths, stood up and decided it was a good idea to go get a glass of water.

It was only when the glass was in his hand, that he noticed it was sweating and trembling, accompanying his heart which was beating loudly. Was he… anxious?

He drank his water (and nearly choked on it, too), feeling how the cold liquid traveled down to his stomach.

After a few more glasses, Haruka felt sufficiently calmed down to return to his work area.

Mindlessly, he took his pencil and his sketchbook and began drawing a dress, wondering if it would fit the redhead.

However, he would not be satisfied with the result until he’d meet the model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [Limp Bizkit’s song “Behind Blue Eyes”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hfHS7WCPc24) as the title for this chapter, I like the ring to it, Haru has blue eyes, so I thought it would be fitting. I didn’t take into consideration the lyrics. Apologies. =3


	2. Carmen Rouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [Ikuko Kawai’s song "Carmen Rouge"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TczK2wmUI0) as the title of this chapter, song that is based off on the opera “Carmen”, character whose introduction is the aria “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” ("Love is like a rebellious bird") also called [“La Habanera”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCxzsOIX2UA). Originally a Cuban novel.
> 
> I thought it would be fitting to use this song as Rin’s introduction, as I always imagine Carmen using a red dress (I have no idea why). Also, because love is red, and that is Rin’s color, too.

Rin was excited, to say the least. Chances like this one were hard to come by, and yet here it was.

A very promising campaign.

He tucked behind his ear some stray strands of his hair as his eyes traveled across the photographs of the portfolio he held in front of himself.

He had to admit, these dresses seemed to come out of a fairy tale. There was simply no way anyone could make such perfect tailoring.

The women behind the designs of the dresses contained in both portfolios must be some really cocky high-class designers if their ability was something to go by.

For some reason, though, Rin felt drawn to pay extra attention to the designs in Nanase’s portfolio. Like, shit, this woman had the best skills he’d ever seen, and that was saying a lot. He could already see himself wearing her dresses.

A knock on the door brought Rin back from his musings, he set the portfolio on the coffee table as he straightened the waistband of the skirt he wore, and pulled on the black coat that was provided to him after he opened the door.

As he walked—on the knee-high boots—, make-up artists rushed to apply the products on his face, and the hair stylist pushed a bright pink headband, keeping his long red locks off his face, except for his sole trademark bang hanging in the middle of his face.

When everyone was done, Rin grinned and stepped in front of the white screen, and followed the photographer’s instructions, posing and smiling or dejectedly glaring at the camera with a glint of that _something_ in his eyes, he did it as the camera’s flash went off.

His was the life of a gender fluid model.

Matsuoka Rin. Age 22. Models as man, woman, both or neither, depending on the photo shoots’ directors or the designers at fashion parades, and sometimes even depending on how he felt each day (most of the time Rin felt like a _he_ ).

His career had just started, though.

It had been a real struggle for him to get contracts at first. Unsurprisingly, even finding a spot open at an agency was near impossible. And most of the ones he found were for women. As a hasty decision—he hadn’t come out at the time—he charged on one of those contracts, giving it a shot.

The staff was reluctant at first, but after they saw the photos he produced, they were awestruck. Especially considering that his body was not all that feminine; he had been a swimmer during his school days, so he was slightly muscled (though not as much as back then), his face was not as softly angled as an ordinary woman’s, and let’s not talk about his height.

Yet, given the right makeup, the right light and the right angle of the camera, he _looked_ perfectly like a woman. A kickass fit woman. And also _very_ attractive.

He was not a narcissist, but he liked helping make designers’ clothes look beautiful. It was like being a mannequin, he showed off the clothes. Of course, he was _way prettier_ than a mannequin, and a lot more dynamic than one, too.

And it wasn’t as if he could use only certain clothes that fitted him. Rather, _he_ fit in any clothes that were put on him.

But, however talented and flexible as he was, Rin did not get as many contracts as he could have, because in Japan, such… A person, a gender fluid individual, was not quite socially acceptable. Such a rejection was hard on Rin. More so when he found out he really liked working like that, being open about it. It was as if his very existence was being frowned upon.

And as such, he realized his career could not bloom in Japan, no matter how much of a fashion capital it was. He needed to go abroad. And he’d done his proper planning, he knew where to go and which agencies would take him, but he still lacked one important thing: Money.

But he was getting there, especially now that he had been selected for this new campaign.

The rest of the details for the meeting were given to him the next morning. They’d meet with the designers and the rest of the staff of the shop in about two weeks. The models’ packed agendas didn’t allow a better scheduling, but it was a rather relaxed timing.

He already knew the other model, Hanamura Chigusa.

She was friends with Gou, his little sister. They’ve known each other since middle school, and naturally, Hanamura stayed over at their house plenty of times.

It was a complete coincidence that they applied to the same modeling agency last year.

She and Rin got along alright, but it always unsettled him just how calculating her stare seemed to be sometimes, as if she was judging him, committing to memory all his embarrassing moments to later gossip with Gou.

Yes, surprisingly, Rin was quite self-conscious. Even if he was already used to the glare of reflectors and the media, or the constant exposure of his body to the staff and photographers, there was only one thing all of them really cared about.

They only cared about his body, not his heart.

He was aware that if anyone could break him, it would be someone close to him, someone who _knew him personally_. And that’s why working with Hanamura was never pleasant; he felt the need to be extra cautious around her, lest he does something that could end up in him becoming the laughingstock of his family.

His mother and his sister were actually pretty supportive, so he felt it was stupid to keep worrying about that, but he was afraid that the ideals of his late father had influenced them somehow. He—as far has Rin could remember—had been a rather nice guy. But he did not accept the fact that genders other than born males and born women even existed, let alone other sexualities. To Matsuoka Toraichi, the knowledge of his son being different than “the way he was born” would have sent him to an early grave, with or without the influence of that storm, years ago.

Rin entertained the idea of getting ahead by paying a visit to the wedding shop he’d be working at for as long as the contract stipulated. But he knew that it would be futile, there was nothing to give or take yet, except, perhaps getting to know the designers, but for that reason they were holding a meeting in less than two weeks.

The campaign director, Ushijima-san, a guy in his late forties/early fifties, had everything covered, there was no need to worry or fidget. Everything was under control, but the redhead couldn’t contain his anxiety, he really wanted the whole thing to set in motion already, get started and get out of Japan. He knew this opportunity was one of the most important in his entire life.

Rin was only able to get by the rest of the days on caffeine in the mornings and sleeping pills in the nights. Such was his excitement.

When the day of the meeting rolled in, Rin figured it was best to show himself as a blank canvas, ready to be colored by the artist that would work on him. So he chose some simple, easy to remove clothes, no make-up or accessories—except for his beanie and jacket, it was getting really cold—and his most pleasant smile.

They traveled in three cars, the executives in one, comprised of the campaign director, the campaign agent and the photographer and their bodyguards. In the second car Hanamura and her staff—her bodyguard, her make-up artist and her hair stylist—traveled. And in the last one, Rin and his staff—the same as Hanamura.

“Nervous?” The deep voice of his best friend brought Rin back to reality from his fidgeting.

“Shut up, Sousuke,” He snapped.

The teal eyed bodyguard snickered. “No need to get mad, Rin. It’s not like you’re going to meet the love of your life, or something,” He teased.

The redhead pouted and looked away, out of the window. Of course, the butt wipe had to bring that up. A little of romanticism wasn’t a bad thing, was it?

The wedding shop was kind of small, puny, even, at some point. It was located in Rin’s hometown. He felt a slight pang of disappointment but was quickly replaced by a new wave of energy as soon as he saw the few dresses on the display.

Oh, yes. He would definitely get one hell of a kick start to his career here. He could see such a promising future waiting for him as his feet took him closer and inside the tiny boutique.

He focused on every little detail the cramped room had to offer. The racks full of dresses, the displays with tiaras and miscellaneous accessories, the work tables of the designers covered by scattered sheets filled with new designs, the doors that led to the managers’ office, the changing booths and the employees’ restroom... His stomach was somersaulting excitedly at the sight of the dresses and accessories.

“Pleased to meet you personally, Tachibana, Hazuki,” Ushijima-san said, pulling Rin back from his reverie. “These are our models,” he said as he beckoned Rin to start.

“Hello, I’m Matsuoka Rin. Please take care of me,” the redhead declared in a pleasant tone accompanied with a smile, and he bowed.


	3. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [Mamoru Miyano’s song “Discovery”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcIz1d5UKsg) as the title of this chapter.

Everyone knew Haruka for being quiet and rarely ever speaking up unless necessary, but _this_ was ridiculous.

He was staring. An unmoving stance and a dense aura hung around him. The other three could feel it, but they dared not disperse it in fear the eldest of them would snap at them. The designer was nervous, anticipating the meeting to come. Or rather, for _the model_ he’d spent almost two weeks designing dresses for.

Like proverbial rain in midsummer, the bell on the front door jingled, signaling the incoming visitors, most likely to be from their employing agency.

The four of them stood in line, as a welcome committee. Their anxiety subdued only slightly, but it was more _bearable_ now.

Haruka felt nauseous—not that he showed it—and his stomach did a flip when a shock of red hair tucked inside a beanie flashed behind the smiling campaign director and the photographer.

Makoto was the first to reach the incoming group to greet them, followed by Nagisa, who pulled Rei along. After the two managers had introduced themselves, the rest of the staff did the same and prompted their models to be next.

_Matsuoka Rin. Please take care of me._

It wasn’t as if Haruka didn’t know his name already. He’d practically memorized it thoroughly. But this was the first time he heard his voice. And, _God, he wanted to hear more_.

He had been captivated. The designer hadn’t expected his voice to be so… deep, so rich. What he had expected had been a soft, squeaky voice, something _not quite_ so fitting. He’d underestimated his contender, and now, he was certain, it would never let him sleep in peace.

And he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or hated it.

Haruka missed the other model’s introduction, as he could not take his eyes off of the redhead.

He jolted when a hand patted his shoulder and Haruka turned to see Makoto.

“Time to introduce yourself, Haru,” A knowing smile graced the brunet’s lips, and Haruka felt irritated immediately

“So, where are the designers?” Haruka focused on the redhead, again, as if the smooth voice was a magnet for his attention.

“Haru,” Makoto urged his childhood friend.

“Nanase Haruka,” He said in a dazed monotone, followed by a curt bow.

Matsuoka seemed surprised. Haruka faintly heard Rei’s voice.

“Whoa, wait just…” the redhead swallowed. “You mean to tell me the designers are _not_ , in fact, women?”

Haruka felt like laughing at the incredulous tone his voice took.

Rei scoffed. “Of course! I believe it was clearly specified in our portfolios, given the fact that our names are girly, in prime-”

“Rei-chan made sure that their gender was on them, but I guess it could have been a better idea to put the photos I told-”

“I was certainly not going to allow _such monstrosities_ be placed in our portfolios, Nagisa-kun. Aesthetically speaking, you cannot show such inappropriate displays of not-beautif-”

“Now, now, guys, that’s enough,” Makoto said in a kind but embarrassed voice, trying to avoid the conversation from escalating as usual.

Haruka noticed the amusement and a mild hint of irritation in Matsuoka’s expression. _Why?_ Haruka wondered.

“You guys have dresses in stock, right?” The agent asked.

“Ah, yes, while every single dress was designed by either Haru or Rei, not _all_ are custom made. Just like any other shop,” Makoto said.

“Not every shop has designs like yours, Tachibana,” Said Ushijima-san (that’s the name, right? Haruka wasn’t sure) with a wink.

“Certainly,” Rei mused while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Haruka-senpai’s designs are top-class.”

The director and the photographer laughed. “Drop the modesty, Ryuugazaki. You’re splendid yourself! Don’t undermine your abilities.”

Rei blushed a crimson red and Nagisa giggled. “Told you so, Rei-chan!” He singsonged.

After the rest of the introductions and some talking—during which Haruka may or may not have been studying everything the redhead did—Ushijima-san directed Matsuoka and Hanamura (Haruka paid attention to the director, and he said her name at some point) to go chose dresses to try on. As to get a feeling of how to do the job. The man then got to talk about business with Makoto and Nagisa, while the models went through the racks of dresses.

Haruka’s eyes followed them.

Matsuoka’s face lightened up when he found a dress he liked, pulled it out and pressed it over his body to check it out better. His cheeks took a tint of pink while his smirk became a satisfied smile.

Haruka’s heart rate shot up to the skies and, for a moment, he forgot to breathe. It was his design the redhead chose! Heat rose to the designer’s face and he pursed his lips as he looked away as a reflex.

“I wanna try this one,” Matsuoka announced and walked to where the changing booths were.

Haruka grabbed his pin holder and followed him without giving a thought to his actions. His ominous approach startled the redhead slightly.

“Wha-?”

“It’s not your size, I have to fit it to you,” The designer said in a tempered tone that didn’t betray his anxiety. But his eyes were trained on the model's red ones, who happened to be slightly taller than him—fact he faintly acknowledged, as he was more focused on picking out the shades of red that colored those eyes.

The model pursed his lips a bit. “Sure, suit yourself,” he mumbled and turned back to walk to the booths.

Both of them entered the changing booth and Haruka closed the door while Matsuoka put the dress away to start undressing.

The artist noticed how the model seemed to move slowly, as if reluctant to strip. It hadn’t occurred to him that the guy might want a bit of privacy to put the dress on, he had been more intent on understanding the reason for his fixation on the model.

Well, it was too late to back out.

After the jacket, the shoes and the socks had been taken off, Matsuoka proceeded to remove the beanie along with his t-shirt.

The red locks priorly slightly tucked inside the accessory now fell on pale bare shoulders and framed the model’s face that now gave off a feel of shyness.

If Haruka had been anxious before, now he was on fire. His breath hitched and a lump formed in his throat, making him feel as if he was drowning. And it was only worsened when that shy expression was accentuated by a soft blush appearing on pale cheeks after red eyes found blue ones.

It was hard to resist the desire to touch the smooth looking skin or tuck behind flushed ears some stray strands of wine colored hair.

Haruka noticed how both of them had been staring, and in a startled realization, he turned away and crossed his arms over his chest to avoid reaching to the other man.

_So close…_

He heard the rustling of clothes and glanced to see the model putting on the dress.

“…Do you think you could help me?” Matsuoka asked after having cleared his throat, “I’m… kind of stuck.”

Haruka tensed for a moment, but moved, clenching his jaw, and moved the folds of the dress skirt out of the model’s way, and after he had pushed one strap on Matsuoka’s shoulder, his finger caught slightly on a strand of hair.

It was _so soft_.

The redhead turned around, hinting that Haruka had to help him button up the back of the dress.

If Matsuoka thought it would be easier to deal with the awkward situation at hand by not being able to see the other’s face, he was sorely mistaken.

The designer’s fingers kept making contact with the smooth—softer than he had imagined it would be—skin and noticed the goose bumps that formed after the touches. Haruka marveled on these reactions, not quite noticing when his name was called, outside the booth, by a very annoying tone he knew all too well.

He honestly wanted to ignore Makoto, but he knew it would be futile and unprofessional.

“Oi, they’re asking for you,” Matsuoka mumbled, voice breathy.

Haruka sighed and turned to open the booth door a crack.

“What is it?”

Makoto came into view. “Oh, sorry I didn’t see you getting inside,” Haruka heard a rustle behind himself and noticed his friend glanced inside the booth, “Ah! You’re helping Matsuoka-kun to get dressed!” He smiled kindly, “Alright, you can get back to it.”

 _Of course I can, dummy, it’s my job_ , Haruka thought in irritation while closing the booth's door.

He went back to the task at hand, finished doing the buttons and started to push pins into the fabric to make it fit the gracious body of the model.

“Done,” He mumbled, and the redhead turned around.

Haruka considered not opening the door, choosing to stay inside the booth with such a beautiful person, but then again, it would be not only unprofessional, but it would also be unethical, and Matsuoka might not appreciate it.

The designer was 99% confident that he would get a painful jab to the face, because, even though the model was a bit thin, those muscles under the soft ridges of skin were not just for show. They had definitely been submitted to constant work out in the past, and they definitely held impressive strength.

He opened the door and let the model walk out.

The room fell silent after a few gasps.

Haruka felt nervous, not facing the audience, instead having turned to look at an interesting piece of paper near the trash can. He then wondered if the model felt worse. So he decided to take part of the brunt from the critics and turned to see everyone as well. His eyes widened as he noticed the awe in their expressions. So it hadn’t been only Haruka’s imagination that Matsuoka looked more than pretty.

“This is definitely going to work!” Ushijima-san cheered.

Makoto, Rei, and Nagisa jumped slightly at the volume the director used and started laughing. The rest of the staff followed soon after and cheers filled the once quiet shop.

Haruka also noticed that Hanamura had used one of Rei’s designs and it flattered her form almost to the degree his dress flattered Matsuoka.

 _Yes_ , Haruka agreed, _the campaign is going to be a big hit_.

Scarlet eyes locked again with his, and his chest filled with cozy warmth.

Haruka spared a glance at the campaign agent and his eye twitched accompanied by a slight downward twist of his mouth. The way he looked at Matsuoka was… unsettling. No, not just unsettling. It was _down right disgusting_. Although things like this usually had no effect on the designer, he could just feel how much the agent was lusting after his new client. Regardless of it being his business or not—which was usually a deciding factor in caring about certain events or not—, Haruka certainly cared about this. A lot.

And that kind of made him feel uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ONLY NOTICED THE LYRICS FIT MY STORY AFTER I FINISHED WRITING THIS, SO [HERE](http://yumehokori.wordpress.com/2012/05/24/miyano-mamoru-discovery-lyrics/), HAVE A LOOK AT THEM.


	4. Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO UPDATE.
> 
> I was focusing too much on the fact that Rin is gender-fluid so I forgot the plot and got kinda stuck (it took me a while to get writing again), but now I’m back on track!
> 
> On other order of news:  
> Unoriginal title attacks again!  
> This chapter’s titled after [Mamoru Miyano’s song “Identity”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u75tE4Njv20). (I really loved how Mamo had hair extensions in the video) 
> 
> Going through some stuff in my Tumblr archive, I re-found [this](http://karratran.tumblr.com/post/89107791765/pixiv-id-44149827-member)~
> 
> This time it was my sis Alba who helped me with the beta. I LOVE YOU OKAY YOU'RE PERF.

Rin barely managed to reach his apartment in one piece before he finally flopped on his bed and screamed into his pillow.

All the pent up tension that had accumulated throughout the day was, at last, allowed to leave his system.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” Was the first coherent thing Rin was able to say. “How dare he…” The ghost of Nanase’s fingers on his skin was still warm after so many hours since the meeting.

Rin clutched his pillow, hiding his face as he lay on his back, breathing uneasily.

The warmth, the tenderness in those moments together, the soft contact between their skins… Could he consider those as _caresses_? That was how it felt, anyway. There was no way the guy hadn’t done it on purpose. Especially after having fitted Rin three more dresses. And let’s not mention that apparently, all of them turned out to be Nanase’s designs.

He couldn’t forget how the designer’s eyes lit up every time he picked up one of his dresses.

It was quite hilarious, though, just how easy to please Nanase was. That was one of the main reasons why Rin didn’t think it was a coincidence that the guy kept touching him. Warmth filled his cheeks and his skin prickled at the memory.

Rin grabbed some strands of his hair from the general area Nanase had touched it. A sigh left his lips. What the hell had he intended to do?

The redhead fell asleep with all those thoughts in mind.

 _…Well, Nanase wasn’t that bad… And his eyes were… smoldering… so deeply_ blue _… clear as water._

It wasn’t rare when Rin woke up feeling different, it was quite common actually. This day, at waking up, the redhead seemed especially sensitive, soft and lungs airy. It was the kind of day where Rin awoke with a slight easiness, which was noticed immediately, so Rin smiled at it. Today, Rin was a she.

She hopped to her closet and chose a tight pair of black jeans, a loose beige blouse that fell from one of her shoulders and some pretty toeless, short, high-heeled black boots.

She took a slightly long shower and applied lots of crème on her skin (the fact that she wanted to soften her skin had nothing to do with the prospect of a certain handsome, taciturn _someone_ touching it. Not at all, not a chance in hell). After having put on the clothes she selected, Rin braided her wine colored hair, starting from over her right ear and ending an inch under her left ear, and then on until the tips of her hair near her shoulders, leaving some strands to frame her face. She also put a small cherry blossom hairpin at the start of the braid, making it seem like the braid stemmed from the pin.

One thing she liked about her eyes was that the way they were shaped was already quite attractive, so she didn’t feel like adding much makeup. But of course, mascara was not out of the equation. So the naturally-curved lovely eyelashes were enhanced with the black product. A thin layer of soft pink lip gloss and Rin was ready.

Her cell phone ringtone notified her of who was calling her. Her smile grew.

“Hey, Sousuke~!” She greeted after picking up the call.

“ _Ah, hey, pretty girl_ ,” Sousuke was one of the few who could easily pick up Rin’s gender (not that it was too hard, but sometimes Rin liked to tease, and even then Sousuke was about 99% accurate), and he helped her boosting her self-esteem. But, of course, he also liked to tease. “ _We’re waiting for you! We don’t usually wait this long on_ other _days! So hurry up and come down already, we don’t have forever on our schedule_.” Please, note the emphasis on the word “other.” Apparently, every day Rin was she, she took longer to get ready.

Rin bristled at the tone her best friend’s voice took. “Tch, stingy. I’m on my way.”

She hung up, grabbed a white cotton sweater that reached her thighs and left her apartment.

After some teasing from Sousuke and some smacking on the back of the head from Rin (“Hey! I’m driving, Rin, do you want to kill us?!”), in the car for what seemed like forever, they reached the tiny boutique.

The first thing Rin noticed when she stepped inside the shop was that there was a lot of new design sheets scattered about on the floor, some impressive designs were visible, others had been crumpled and thrown near the trash bin.

The second thing was that a very concerned brunet manager (whose name Rin couldn't remember) was hovering over Nanase, who happened to be nearly passed out on his work table.

A tremor of concern passed through the redhead, _Oh, shit_.

“What’s wrong with Nanase?” Her voice was about an octave higher in her distress.

The brunet raised his head to see who had spoken to him and as soon as his eyes focused on Rin, they widened in surprise, probably because it was the first time he'd seen Rin presenting her female gender. “A-ah, Haru is…”

“…Let me sleep, Makoto…” Nanase said. His voice was so dull and full of tiredness. Rin wanted to help somehow, so she leaned in and reached for him.

“Haru! They’re already here!” The manager (Makoto, it’d be awkward to call him that, so Rin waited till someone said his family name) whispered.

The speed in which Nanase raised his head (and nearly hit Rin in the process) was almost neck-snapping. It was to his credit that he didn’t actually break his neck, but it didn’t mean Rin was happy with it. _Was he stupid?_

As soon as his eyes—whose blue color competed with sapphires—looked into Rin’s, a pleasant tingling passed through her spine, and Nanase stood up in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Matsuoka…”

 _Oh… shit…_ it was the first time Nanase said her name, and she felt her cheeks burn and her heart sped up.

It was then that she noticed that the man seemed feverish, black circles under glassy eyes and red faced. “Are you sick?” She reached her hand to touch his forehead to check his temperature.

And it didn’t occur to her that maybe, _just maybe_ , he was simply flustered until his cheeks flared a brighter red.

She was touching his face while he held her by the shoulders.

_Ah, crap._

Rin stepped away from Nanase, to give both some space, and scratched the back of her neck while heat rose to her face, “S-sorry about that.” Had he pulled an all-nighter designing new dresses?

“Ah! Hey, Rin-chan!” The chipper voice called.

She turned to see the blond manager (the brunet called him Nagisa, but, again, it’d be weird not to call him by his family name) approaching them, followed by Ryuugazaki (whose name she did remember, after all, she spent a lot of time studying his portfolio, too).

“Don’t be rude, Nagisa-kun!” Ryuugazaki chided the blond.

“I don’t mind it, but isn’t it too soon to be on given-name basis?” Rin wondered.

“It’s never too soon for Nagisa, Matsuoka-kun,” Makoto spoke in his apologetically kind tone.

“And Rin-chan’s name is girly, so you can join our club of guys with girly names!”

“But I _am_ a girl.” The redhead chimed in.

“…”

“What?”

“What do you mean, Rin-chan?” The three of them stared at her as if they were seeing her for the first time. It was kind of unnerving, of course, but Rin had to make her stand and explain herself to these men.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? Or you honestly thought that I _pretended to be_ gender fluid for the job?” It was utterly incredible that they didn’t notice, after all, they did study her portfolio… right? She sighed. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I _am_ gender fluid. And it’s not just for show.”

“How does it work?” Ryuugazaki asked.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, like, yesterday you came here as a guy? But today, it looks like you came as a girl? Does it mean you don’t have an actual gender or something?” Nagisa got into her personal space, so Rin backed away a couple of steps.

“Nagisa, give her space.” The taciturn designer’s voice commanded.

Rin froze and her eyes widened.

_…That was Nanase, right?_

_Oh, my God._

_Was he… defending her?_

She slowly turned to see him, and for a moment, it felt as if everything fell quiet and she could only hear her own loud heartbeat, the blood rushing in her ears while her mind was lost in the azure gaze.

An ephemeral moment that lasted mere seconds. And then it got replaced by a swirl of movement as the rest of the staff arrived and everyone got working.

Rin could only remember that that day they were going to work on choosing dresses for next week’s photoshoot. As such, the makeup artists, the hair stylists, and the photographers didn’t come; only the campaign director, the agents, the models and their bodyguards.

After that day, Rin lost track of the time in the swirl of dresses, flashes, and places. But what distracted him the most were those blue glances, wandering hands, and lingering fingers.

As the days went by, those hands became bolder, lingering longer, touching more skin. Of course, both of them were dancing around each other. A hand on the waist or on the shoulder when no one else was watching, even a forehead pressed to the back of the other’s head when fitting a dress… things like that.

It was when Rin noticed that Nanase’s breath ghosted across the skin on his neck that time came back to his senses. It had been a bit over two weeks since the day they met.

There were many things the redhead wanted to know about the taciturn designer, things he wanted to ask, yet he always found himself distracted by warm touches.

“You can’t be more obvious, Rin,” Sousuke had told him while they were having some leisure time, after a day’s work, at a small local bar. Something that happened quite commonly.

“The fuck? What the hell are you talking about?” Rin had been slightly tipsy, already starting to badmouth. It wasn’t as if he didn’t say those words while sober, but he tended to be more a bit more vulgar and say them more often while inebriated.

Sousuke remained silent for a few moments, studying the liquid held in his glass. He frowned slightly. “Please, tell me you didn’t mean to ‘trip’ with the dress and into Nanase’s arms. Tell me it was an _accident_.”

If Rin had been swallowing, he would have choked. Instead, he spluttered unintelligibly while blushing profusely. He thought he had been subtle about it!

“Bullseye, huh.” His best friend sighed deeply. “What is it you want? What exactly are you doing?” Sousuke’s baritone voice rang clear in Rin’s ears.

“I…” The question took him by surprise. It wasn’t as if he didn’t ask himself that same thing every night, though. “Shit, I don’t know… honestly?”

Warm breath blowing on his neck brought Rin back to reality again, back to Nanase’s arms, encircling his waist, and black hair tickling his nose, back to his own hands pressed on the designer’s back, bringing him closer to himself. Nanase’s hands were “working” on the dress’ buttons, but in reality, they were teasing the sensitive skin beneath the fabric.

One soft exhale skid across his skin again and goosebumps followed its wake. Rin’s hands pressed harder on Nanase’s back.

A knock on the stall’s door that startled them, followed by a kind “Haru?” coming from Tachibana (Rin could finally remember everyone’s names now), got them fumbling with the rest of the fitting in a rush.

The flush adorning Rin’s cheeks did not dissipate for the rest of the day. It was a very good thing that dresses were excellent to hide awkward boners way better than trousers.

But the worst thing about the whole ordeal was that they hadn’t even had a proper conversation, let alone a single kiss. It was only… _exploratory_ … to an extent. Although, it was certainly clear that they were attracted to each other. No question about that.

However, it was Rin’s job to bring romance to the situation. One way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'll be able to update periodically, because life happens. I failed some classes, I got a bf, I got a job, and, well, my parents and I might move out soon.
> 
> But I **swear** I won't let this fic die.


	5. Passion in Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!!! I had no idea working would be so taxing...
> 
> Anyways! On to the chappy! ~~Sorry if my updates are a bit short....~~
> 
> I think the title is suggestive enough, but maybe I went a bit overboard.  
> Things start to get steamy (Please be kind with me, I’m not well versed in smut, so there’s no smut yet).
> 
> This chapter is named after Ikuko Kawai’s “[Passion in Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBA4i7D70CI)”.
> 
> THANKS A TON to [Hinalilly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinalilly/pseuds/Hinalilly/) for helpling me with the beta part.
> 
>  
> 
> **Also, I would like to THANK FOREVER a very fine artist for the[pretty fanart](http://yagamis-tomoe.tumblr.com/post/102999064983), I CAN'T BELIEVE IT STILL THANK YOU SO MUCH!!**

As far as Haruka was aware, he was asexual. And not only that, but he was also aromantic.

His whole life, girls and boys had asked him out more times than he could remember. As soon as they noticed his lack of interest in engaging in both emotional and sexual intercourse, every “attempt” ended with the other person saying: “Ah, it's a shame, with such a lovely face,” which never failed to piss Haruka off. He wasn’t just a face.

At first, he used to think he was broken, that there was something wrong with him, or even that he didn’t belong in his body. After some “accidental” research in Art school–prompted by a classmate of his who introduced herself as asexual–he understood everything.

Things became clear as water, and his life kept its course. Nothing really changed, but his perspective did, and some things became much easier.

And that was exactly why it confused him to no end that the scent of the floral perfume Matsuoka wore–which had stuck on Haruka’s sleeves–was the cause of his current raging boner.

Or that he seemed to have a kink: a particular model wearing the dresses he made.

Was the feel of silky strands of red hair between his fingers also a kink?

Haruka scratched his scalp and, with uncertain slowness–mostly because he was barely even awake at that point–he reached his hand across his abdomen to the priorly mentioned erection.

The hiss that left his lips surprised him enough to halt for, maybe, three seconds before he continued to wrap his hand around his pulsing shaft and closed his eyes in raw exhilaration.

As was expected from a life of daily drawing and fabric-handling, the skin of his hands was soft (not as soft as Matsuoka’s skin–pearly smooth, which never failed to amaze Haruka), but it still felt rough against the sensitive skin of his dick.

However, the slow ministrations felt as good as heaven, even in the lack of proper lubrication. Soon, the uncertain jerking became fast but arrhythmic, though still as good.

During the whole act, Haruka kept his free arm pressed to his face, intent on keeping the scent close to his nose while his mind flew to all the times Matsuoka and he had been alone in the changing booths. The slow caresses, the soft exhales that hid quiet whimpers, warm skin and barely-there tints of pink on beautiful cheeks. And how all those little things made his heart soar.

Haruka then made a mental note to get on his stool and use his oils to paint those incredibly bright red eyes, so full of fire and life, on a new canvas. Those gorgeous eyes that belonged to the most beautiful person. And, as it happened, this fine person was the one Haruka was apparently _very_ sexually attracted to.

His mind was sinking in a pool of red and sleep deprivation so it forgot to tell Haruka that orgasm was approaching. The hot waves of violent pleasure that ran through his body took him by surprise and forced a rather loud moan from his throat. His back arched off the mattress and his heels sunk into it. Raspy breaths followed the white dots that danced in Haruka’s vision.

The designer was a _mess_. An awkwardly writhing one, at that.

Never in his life had he ever come so hard and for so long. Not that he had much experience, his short record of ever experimenting with himself did not tell much.

Once his mind was back on his body and he became aware of his bearings, he realized that, perhaps, he wasn’t as asexual as initially believed. Maybe he should do a bit more of research. In the morning, or the day after. He was beat. Staying up late so much was draining him.

It took him a while to come to terms with his attraction to Matsuoka, long after his body started to have a mind of its own and reach for the model. Haruka became aware of how his own hands trailed invisible designs on the redhead’s skin only after about a week of having started to fit Matsuoka the dresses. How the scent of that cherry blossoms perfume that always accompanied the model became a necessity and any other scent became revolting–even his long loved scent of unused fabric and paper and graphite. How eventually, slowly but surely, he started to draw designs that were exclusively meant to fit on Matsuoka’s body. He even spent entire nights drawing them, trying to design the perfect dress for the beautiful model.

Coincidentally, the very day Matsuoka started to pull Haruka closer, arms wrapped around Haruka’s shoulders, when fitting a dress became more of an embrace than actual fitting, Haruka started having boners. The current week, to be exact. And he had just gotten started on making sense of them, that it was the model that caused them. In all honesty, this had been the first time he jerked off to thoughts of Matsuoka–and what a surprise he got. The other few times, his mind had been a blank mess–not sure what to do with himself or what to even think, with his lack of experience–and in the end, his erection always deflated.

The reminder of the icky feeling of his come in his hand made him get up from his bed–against his own body's protests–and draw a bath of cold water once he reached the bathroom. He really needed to calm down if he wanted to be able to sleep, even in his exhaustion.

What a problem it would be to see the model in the eyes again.

Because the moment he saw Matsuoka, as the model walked through the door of the shop the next day, Haruka felt his face heat up more than ever. Couple the embarrassment he felt to the fact that Matsuoka was wearing a leather jacket, tight jeans–what a sight!– and high-heeled boots. It was a surprise that Haruka didn’t get a nosebleed–it would have been a disaster.

He could also feel the concern irradiating from the busy-body that Makoto was. Haruka shook his head slightly, a signal for Makoto to stop worrying so much and get back to work. Such frivolities could wait as Ushijima-san and the rest of the employers walked into the shop, coming back from the patisserie from around the corner–they had been hungry and Matsuoka had taken some time coming.

They got to work at once. Haruka had selected a few dresses for the redhead while waiting for him to arrive an hour prior. However, the model bypassed them and went straight for one the designer had nearly forgotten about, as it was one of the first designs that actually left the sketchbook and turned into fabric. Haruka wasn’t that fond of it. It was too gaudy.

But Matsuoka smiled at it, and then it became impossible for Haruka to _not want_ to show the model every single design he’d ever drawn and even discarded.

“Hey,” Matsuoka breathed.

It shook Haruka out of his daze.

Well, kind of. Because a pink tongue darted out of soft looking lips and an Adam’s apple bobbed in a delicate pale throat. That was all it took for the designer to lose focus again and forget that the model had spoken at all.

“N-Nanase,” the redhead tried again.

“Haru.”

Okay, that was a bit lame, but in his defense, Haruka didn’t like talking so it was okay if his voice was barely above a whisper. But it hadn’t been just that, he had sounded very breathless.

Ah, that lovely rosy shade was back, coloring those beautiful pale cheeks.

Haruka needed more.

As a knee-jerk reflex, the designer reached for Matsuoka’s face and, as soon as his fingertips came in contact with the velvety skin, Haruka felt like his whole self was on fire. Like lightning had struck him and left him singed and lightheaded.

“Haru,” _and it was music_.

Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss those beautiful lips…

His mind pressed the breaks as hard as it could, bringing Haruka to a screeching halt, stopping him from getting carried away. It was no good if he did while everyone else was waiting for them _just one thin door away_.

No, he had to keep it together and get work going.

Not because he wanted to work, but because he didn’t want to have to explain an awkward boner.

But,

“Then… you can call me Rin.”

That slight–cute–pout nearly sent him to an early grave,

“If-if you want to…”

And the way Mats-- _Rin_ ’s voice became smaller with each word brought Haruka back from that early grave.

Because the blushing face–always gorgeous–was constant, every new thing that Rin did made Haruka fall for the model even more.

And as always, it was Makoto who brought them back from Cloud Nine and down to Earth with a simple knock on the door and a kind “Ready, guys?”. It made them jump with a start, like any other time. The scalding heat that flooded to their faces was also always the same, but, at the same time, _never_ the same.

Because it always felt like it was the _first time_.

The old design looked exquisite on Rin, its fanciness really did fit the model, and it got Haruka thinking.

He had stopped drawing designs like that one a long time ago, but it felt as if it somehow fit the model better than the most recent ones.

Maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea…

When the artist was back at his apartment, _after having taken care of his body’s needs after a day of continuously bottling it up_ , he sat on his bed with his sketchbook on his lap and a pencil in hand.

His old drawing style consisted of sharp, thick lines and little to no eraser–not that he used it as much now, either. It wasn’t something he was fond of having done in the past, but he was willing to give it a try.

A grimace appeared on his face when he finished the first sketch of the night. It was horrendous and dirty. He couldn’t believe it had been his style from back then. But, it also wasn’t all that bad, the design itself.

So, as he fixed it to his current style, he realized that it wasn’t as bad as he first thought. It was like polishing a diamond in the rough, softening the hard edges and taking out the impurities.

He followed the same process several times, drawing something raw and turning it into something cleaner– _better_ –until he fell asleep with the sketchbook still in his lap and his head hanging to his chest.

It would hurt in the morning, his neck.

Or maybe not, because his phone vibrated–a message–and woke him up.

_-Yo, Haru?_

Oh, God.

Even if he was drowsy, it still took him a moment to think of what to say. A simple “what?” wouldn’t do. But in his own awkwardness, that’s precisely the word he used. As soon as the message was sent, he _mentally_ smacked his own forehead. _Such an idiot!_

_-Can I ask you a favor?_

Haruka was begging to the Heavens above that whatever Rin wanted, it wouldn’t have a thing to do with how his dick twitched, that it would be something healthy to his heart.

But the next message he received marked the end of his sanity–not that he had that much left to begin with.

There was no way he’d be able to sleep anymore.

Not that he’d want to, either. He was sure that if he fell asleep now, he’d have one of the most vivid dreams his mind could provide, and that’d make it way harder for him.

And, yes, he meant that in more ways than one.


	6. Wild Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for having taken five months to update. But the idiot muse wasn't cooperating with me. He was a butt in the pain... I mean, _wait, what?_. Ahem. Point is, this might be the last chapter without a plot. ~~I hope.~~
> 
> One day I will think of a title myself, instead of using a song's title. But that day is not today.
> 
> Today's chapter was brought to you by Daughtry's "[Wild Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4_naECX0TA)". ~~You get a cookie if you guess why~~~
> 
> Also, this chapter was a special request from [Maddie](http://maddieandyou.tumblr.com), the genius behind the original idea. I hope you like it, darling!!

Back when he was in High School, if anyone would have told Sousuke that his best friend, amazing swimmer and idol, would literally become an _actual_ model, he would have laughed it off.

But after some years of having become Rin’s bodyguard, the old idea of the redhead pursuing anything else resonated oddly inside his skull. It was as if being a model was the only real path he was meant to follow.

And Sousuke would _never_ not support Rin.

After all the hardships their friendship survived, all the happy memories, the exciting, the sad, the embarrassing, Sousuke was sure–and his heart rarely ever lied to him–that Rin was his soulmate. Platonically speaking, of course.

It was as if they were the same person, but only in different bodies. And different personalities.

But that was beside the point.

Because… Why wasn’t Rin picking up the phone?!

The fourth time, right into voicemail.

Sousuke wasn’t sure if he was irritated or worried. Though, his eyebrow was certainly twitching.

He, of course, was grateful the idiot Rin had given him the key to the apartment, because there were days not even a fire could get Rin out on time. So a tug on the ear, a little nagging, and off they went.

However, that was not the case today. The apartment was devoid of a certain redheaded model.

He tried dialing Rin again. To no avail.

Call it a sixth sense, but if Rin was missing, then there was probably only one place he could actually be, on his own free will. Because one way or another, Rin was a workaholic.

Sousuke sighed and ran a hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp in a calming manner. He went to Rin’s bathroom and took some painkillers–because following Rin’s breadcrumb trail gave Sousuke a headache–and drank a glass of water. After that, he left the apartment to search for his best friend.

It never ceased to amaze Sousuke that the streets of this little town were so easy to navigate through—the one thing he was very grateful for because he would still be getting lost if they weren’t—and there were so few cars, so there was almost no traffic. It made the trip to the boutique a matter of just a few minutes.

He had barely opened the boutique’s front door, as it was unlocked, and hadn’t even made the bell sound when he heard _it_ , and the blood in his veins froze.

It had been almost soundless, but there was not a single doubt in Sousuke’s mind that what had just reached his ears had been a whimper.

Was Rin crying? Because that had been definitely Rin’s voice. Why would Rin cry?

Oh, God, there it was again.

The bodyguard felt his heart sink, and he was _so close_ to just barging inside the boutique and giving a piece of his mind to whoever was making Rin cry, but,

“Rin, don’t cry. It’s almost over.”

…That was definitely Nanase. And he sounded quite winded.

Wait. _What?_

“I’m not crying, you idiot. You’re doing it too hard, I can’t breathe!” Rin whimpered again.

“S-sorry… It was your idea, though.”

Rin definitely hit something, because that thump just then was… “I know, but– _Ah, God!_ —my hips are killing me!”

_What?!_

All the blood drained from his face.

Okay, _this_ was definitely not happening.

Sousuke was _not_ going to listen in to his best friend… _banging_. There was no way he’d let the image of Rin in his mind be tainted by… _that_. He should definitely walk away immediately while there was still time. Rin liked the guy, so Sousuke had no right to mess with whatever the model wanted to do. There was simply no way in fucking Hell--

“B-be more gentle, or it’ll rip—a _-ah, Haru!_ ”

"Haah... Don't be stupid, Rin. It's not going to get torn from just this much."

“B-but!... Shit, Haru, ow!"

_Fuck. No._

“It’s too much, I- _I_ don’t— _ah_ —think I can take this for much l-longer, you’re doing it too hard!”

He was absolutely certain he was going to regret this. He’d be scarred for life. But he was not going to let this Nanase asshole hurt his best friend’s _virtue_.

The door slammed against the wall. “Get your _dirty hands off_ Rin, Nanase!!” And everything fell silent.

His brain was having difficulty understanding what his eyes were seeing.

For one, Rin was very flustered, sweaty, and rapidly growing embarrassed. He looked exactly like he was being fucked. And Nanase had been startled, but his expression was rapidly falling back into the irritatingly passive mask he always wore. It really pissed Sousuke off.

And second, it was not exactly what he had imagined.

Well, maybe their expressions _were_ what he’d expected—especially Rin’s—but not the activity _itself_.

Nanase was pulling the strings—and making a pretty bow, _that_ was all Sousuke could think of admitting—of a corset around Rin’s midsection.

He felt his eyelid twitch.

“…This is not okay, you dumb idiots.” Sousuke mumbled while he scrubbed his face with both hands. “Cut the noise down, will ya? …You know what? Fuck it, I’m out.” And he slammed the door closed as he turned and left.

He promptly sought a drugstore and got himself another couple of painkillers.

_What a headache._

…In the end, he had been right. It definitely was going to scar him for life. Out of pure _embarrassment_.

Sousuke sighed loudly in exasperation. Sure, it was a work day, and they _were_ going to go to the boutique anyway—the models didn’t even need to be there. But couldn’t Rin answer his damn phone at least once?! Or better yet, why not send him a fucking text?! Sousuke would have even suggested dropping him off himself. No biggie.

But this was beyond ridiculous on many levels.

Sousuke should definitely find better friends.

But no, he was stuck with Rin and Rin’s quirks. And both were a pain in the ass.

One way or another, Sousuke _had_ to get back to the boutique. He had to go and retrieve large numbers of dresses and accessories and drop them at the site of the photo shoot they had the day after—which only served as proof that they really were taking things leisurely since Rin’s schedule was usually heavier.

Sousuke _did get lost_ once or twice, but rapidly got the hang of it. Years of having to live with this one trait of his, he, at least, had learned how not to remain lost, after all.

The good thing about the whole ordeal was that he didn’t have to interact with the staff much.

Each time Sousuke entered the boutique, he was bombarded with apologetic glances and awkward silence.

Nanase, however, didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. Just give Sousuke _one_ reason and Nanase will get his whole existence beaten to a pulp.

Ryuugazaki was at the photoshoot spot, and he took care of the dresses and the boxes of accessories Nanase had him deliver. Blessedly he did not ask more than “Who is handing you the dresses?” to which Sousuke answered “Nanase,” and that was it. The bespectacled designer only nodded and kept working. He did sometimes stop to admire some of the dresses.

The last time Sousuke returned to the boutique, Rin told him that he wasn’t going to need to be escorted to his apartment, to which he narrowed his eyes.

“ _Rin_.”

“Oh, come on, there’s nothing to worry about!” The model answered Sousuke’s unasked question. Sure, the little town wasn’t as dangerous as the cities they had to go on some jobs, but that didn’t mean it was that much of a good idea to walk out alone at night. Sousuke had to take his job very seriously, or else he could put his best friend in easily avoidable danger.

“Listen. Even if you’re going to be a prick, I have to do my job. And my job is to keep your ass out of danger, whether you like it or not.”

“I know! But…” and at this Rin _blushed._ “If I don’t find a way to spend more time with him, things won’t advance, and you know how I’m a sucker at romant-”

“Of course I do, Rin. We’ve been friends since—what, first grade of elementary? I’m sure that you’d know by now that, as your best friend, I only have in mind your best interests. If you want to bang someone, then it’s fine by me. But, Rin, I cannot gamble with your safety, because it’s _also my job_!”

“…You’re pissed at me because you had to cut short your time with that girl—what’s her name, Fuyuumi? The photographer. Aren’t you?”

Sousuke had to breathe hard, to calm down from the accusation. Rin had pretty much hit the nail—since he _had_ been having a fling with Rin’s photographer and he kind of really liked her, and they had been together that morning—except that it wasn’t just that. Sousuke was pissed at Rin because not only had Sousuke freaked out for Rin’s irresponsibility, he had also gotten his nerves frayed with what had happened earlier. And, really, it wasn’t that he was actually pissed, he was just exhausted.

The model lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“You better be, asshole. But don’t worry, I have your back.”

Rin brightened up at the remark. “Does that mean that I get to-”

“ _No._ ”

“Agh, damn it, Sousuke!” The model pulled at his hair in frustration.

Sousuke crossed his arms in from of his chest. “If you want to stay with Nanase, I have to stay as well. End of discussion.”

“But-”

“I don’t care. What if someone tries to mug you? What are you going to do?” Sousuke grabbed Rin by the shoulders to emphasize his point. “Bat your eyelashes at them?” He added with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re the model. I’m the bodyguard.”

Finally, Rin’s shoulders slouched in defeat. “Fine.” Then he looked up at Sousuke, eyes glinting with a threat, “But if you dare to interrupt again… I hope you’re not fond of your balls.”

After a smack at the back of the head, Rin trudged back to where Nanase was with a warm smile, leaving Sousuke to sit on a plastic chair by the main door.

It was kind of hard to watch those two interact. Both were so painfully awkward around the other. …Well, Sousuke didn’t know about Nanase, but Rin was… shit, it really _was_ excruciating to watch him being so… stupid.

To put it kindly.

They were only getting things back in place, hanging dresses that weren’t going to be used for the photoshoot and things they moved while they were doing _God knows what—_ meaning, could what they were doing be called _flirting_? They were practically dancing around each other, being all delicate and trying to be bold…

Sousuke shuddered lightly.

During the time it took them to get everything in order, Sousuke learned a couple of things from both.

Rin… Sousuke was learning that his best friend, who he’d known as long as he could remember, was an awkward mess.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know Rin could be brash, emotional, idiotic, and instinctual. But he had yet to see how far he could delve into it all. For once, Sousuke got to finally see the model fall for someone. It was the first time he got to see how Rin was when his brain was turned to mush and could only respond to that guy’s prodding.

The designer was really an enigma. It seemed like nothing got to him, but then his hands would try to reach for Rin, trembling, and then remained on the other’s skin for a few seconds too long. Then his eyes would fly to Sousuke and his hands would jerk back as if he’d been touching something too hot for too long—he knew Rin was hot, but damn that Nanase. He was quite expressive if he bothered to be, especially so around Rin.

They spoke little to each other—which totally went against what Rin had proclaimed earlier about wanting to get to know Nanase—but it was as if they talked with their bodies, especially on Nanase’s side. Though Rin blushed and seemed as flustered as could be. Not that Sousuke could blame him—as far as he knew, this was Rin’s first experience with someone who seemed to actually care for him.

Rin wasn’t naïve. He had had his fair share of romantic experiences before, or so he would boast about later on, but what little Sousuke had gotten to witness had never been this quite… overwhelming. There was an unrelenting pressure between them, and it was absolutely ridiculous that no one had noticed yet. Sousuke only knew because Rin had told him.

… _Okay, yes_ , he had noticed on his own before, but Nanase’s partners—the other designer and the managers—seemed to be disgustingly oblivious to what the hell was going on. Their ignorance somehow only seemed to piss Sousuke off. Was Nanase that unorthodox with his own way to carry himself that it made his friends able to take on whatever this moron threw at them in stride? It was utter bullshit.

But at least, Rin seemed to be livelier as of late. That could only be good, right? It had been quite a while since Rin interacted so intimately with anyone and it kind of warmed Sousuke’s chest to see him like that.

It didn’t take them long to finish everything off, and soon, Sousuke was driving both to their respective apartments (because fuck if he was going to let Rin stay the night with Nanase just yet). Rin very discretely begged Sousuke to drive Nanase first to his place.

While he would have rather had a moment alone with Nanase—to threaten him for good measure that if he were going to try anything with Rin, then he should be aware that this Yamazaki was just as good as an older brother to that stupid Matsuoka, and should do only his very best to not try anything funny with his feelings—you know, for good measure. But then realized that it was better if he took a look at Rin’s apartment before going back to his own, just in case.

After all, it was his job to protect Rin.

Rin was delighted to know where Nanase lived—dumb idiot—and nearly followed the guy into it, but Sousuke reminded Rin that they were going to have a photoshoot the next day, and those things were not good to do them when sleep deprived. His grimace was priceless, but he conceded Sousuke the point.

The ride to Rin’s place was a bit awkward, mostly because Rin kept insisting on apologizing. In the end, it really had been Rin’s fault, the whole mess.

“One text, Rin. That was all you needed to do!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just that—um. I… I kind of wanted it to be private, you know…”

“You wanted to keep your kink for corsets private?”

Rin tensed considerably. “Urgh!”

Anyhow, Sousuke needed to laugh his anger off, if not beat the steering wheel. So he had to pull over to avoid any possible accident, and then he laughed as hard as he could. Eventually Rin joined him, at first, a bit shyly, but considering the ridiculousness of the whole ordeal he ended up cackling as well.

“If I have problems sleeping tonight, it’s your fault!” Rin managed to say between peals of laughter.

“You weren’t going to sleep well either way, for all I know. It was either this or thoughts of Nanase. Or am I wrong?”

It was rare to see Rin that quiet, carefully mulling things in his mind. “Yeah.”

Sousuke huffed lightly through his nose with a small smile. “You’re unfixable.”

“You’ve put up with me for way too long, Sousuke. Wouldn’t that make us both unfixable?”

Just to add to the dramatics, Sousuke pretended to think it over, as if it wasn’t obvious. “Nah, I’m just here to keep you grounded.”

Rin slapped him on the shoulder. “You jerk!”

They laughed it off again for a few minutes before getting back on track.

The next day was quite a hectic mess. People rushing, models straining, Ushijima-san barking orders here and there, designers working as fast as they could to fit the dresses on the models. Hanamura had a slight panic attack and the photographer chewed her for it. Rin tried to go and soothe her, but Fuyuumi told him to back off for a moment; after all, he couldn’t slack his own part of the work. It was obvious that Rin felt bad for not helping her, but Hazuki took care of it quite expertly.

“Two of my sisters who’ve married already had panic attacks when they were planning their weddings and _on_ the wedding days. I was the one to get them back to shape, so I know how to deal with it,” was what he said, looking uncharacteristically mature. It added another dimension to the playful manager that Sousuke hadn’t thought to consider.

Soon, Sousuke found himself observing everyone. Observing their behavior, their quirks, the way they spoke and moved. As a bodyguard, he had been trained to keep an eye on those little things, that way he could be able to read possible threats.

What he didn’t like about it was that he also noticed with quite the detail when Nanase reached beneath Rin’s skirt to fix something.

Sousuke had to do a double-take on that.

_Was that a fucking garter?!_

He wished he could dip his brain in a bucket of bleach the moment Rin’s glassy eyes met his and he fucking flushed scarlet because that was something no one was supposed to witness.

_I’ll die of old age soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say about getting a wife, that they are the support of the couple. Well, thank God I have my waifu [Shizuumi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuumi151/pseuds/shizuumi151) by my side or I’d be a splat on the asphalt. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR HELP, WAIFU!! I would have never moved from that one part had it not been for you. I mean it.
> 
> Also, my very important plot bunny co-breeder, [Aenya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlOnFandoms/pseuds/TheGirlOnFandoms), was there to help me along the way, I’m sorry for spoiling this a bit for you. But you love it. Also, I'm praying for your laptop, whether you get fixed the old one or buy a new one. And don't worry, things will work out, one way or another.
> 
> Thanks a ton to [Quasi-senpai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean) for helping me with the beta reading. I don’t know what would it be of me if you weren’t such an amazing person. Editors sure have it hard, don’t they? ;u;

**Author's Note:**

> These notes will appear at the end of every new chapter, bc it'll be a constant reminder!
> 
> I'm not all that familiar with gender fluidity, so if you see I make a mistake or if something feels _wrong_ , please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. Thank you.
> 
> Find me [here](http://karratran.tumblr.com).


End file.
